


light a match to your fire

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Plug, Banter, M/M, Non AU, Ownership, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>And- and he would laugh at himself, honestly, but- but it feels so territorial, so good, that Louis’ just blatantly marked up in a blazer he’s been wearing religiously since the beginning of 2012 and it has his scent lingering on its fabric and it’s so so so big on him, so endearingly big, the broad, padded shoulders sagging and the cuffs pushed up his arm adorably.</em><br/> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Louis wears Harry's navy blue blazer during a UAN concert, and Harry fucks him in it backstage.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	light a match to your fire

**Author's Note:**

> i seem to write harry and louis bantering with each other more than actually fucking, sorry. warnings for ownership kink and a use of the name 'louis styles.' [here's a picture of louis in the blazer](http://kissesland.tumblr.com/post/62384513122/too-old-for-this-ship-do-you-ever-cry-because).

\--

Harry likes to pretend he has - has self-control.

He does, really.

He knows it, even when he places his hand on Louis’ knee after a male interviewer just touched him there. Knows it when he glares at Stan whenever he comes and picks Louis up to go catch up for a while. Knows it when Louis tweets about letting two men have a threesome with him via Twitter and he immediately texts those men right after a sweet ‘ _oh fuck no you cannot_.’ Knows it when he fucked Louis into a flushed pink mess the day he spent an afternoon with Greg James.

Harry _has_ self-control.

Mostly.

He can control himself when Louis touches the other boys, he can control himself when Louis is out with men, he can control himself when Louis unabashedly flirts with girls in front of him, he can, he can.

He doesn't think he can control himself now, though.

Because right now, he’s standing on a stage in a country that isn’t his own, Zayn’s letterman jacket pulled tight across his wide shoulders ( _God_ , Zayn is smaller than he thought),  sweat dampening his white undershirt, and he’s supposed to be singing his part of ‘ _I Want_ ’ but he can’t because his self-control is crumbling away hilariously fast be _cause_ Louis is wearing his blazer.

He’s about to have a meltdown because Louis is wearing his Godforsaken blazer.

And- and he _would_ laugh at himself, honestly, but- but it feels so territorial, so good, that Louis’ just blatantly marked up in a blazer he’s been wearing religiously since the beginning of 2012 and it- it has his scent _lingering_ on its fabric and it’s so so so _big_ on him, so endearingly _big_ , the broad, padded shoulders sagging and the cuffs pushed up his arm adorably and.

It has a crest with his initials on it.

It’s really enough to drive Harry bloody mad, because while he’s never been as jealous or possessive as Louis (that doesn’t mean he isn’t _inwardly_ ), he’s always, _always_ been territorial. Ridiculously so. It’s a laughing matter to most people. To him, it’s a boner-reviver. And a nuisance.

Right now, Louis’ laughing at Liam pretending to fiddle with the tight buttons of Niall’s polo shirt and he’s got a large bowl of sliver glitter tucked under his arm, and everyone knows what he’ll do with it. Harry watches it happen, even; watches him turn around suddenly and splash it over the audience he can reach, his face streaked with sweat and happiness and _God_ , Harry has revived a boner. And a nuisance.

He looks down at his Converse, frowns at how the laces are tied messily before reaching up to thumb at the corner of his mouth, sighing heavily. When he looks back up, Louis is suddenly closer, Liam up at the front of the stage, singing his lead-in for the next song, and Louis’ eyes are narrowed on him, frown on his lips. Harry blinks at him, and then Louis gives him a senile smirk.

Harry swallows uncomfortably before looking back out at the audience, fist tightening on the microphone. He can see that Louis is still staring at him through his peripheral vision, and he takes a moment before glancing back at him, eyes widening as Louis rucks up the sleeves of the blazer while maintaining evil eye contact with him.

If Harry wasn’t so horribly thrown down the trap that is Louis Tomlinson, he would probably dislike him very much.

He watches Louis’ small hand roll the sleeves up slowly, slowly, before letting his eyes flicker back up to meet Louis.’ He’s smiling like a twat, and Harry lets out a sigh, closing his eyes before mouthing at him slowly, angrily.

_Just wait._

He opens his eyes once more before looking back out at the screaming audience, and in the few short seconds he sees Louis’ own eyes widen, jaw slacken and hands loosen on the arm of the blazer.

Two can play at his game, and Harry’s never tried but now seems like a good time, stepping forward when Zayn starts up, raising his microphone to his mouth.

\--

When the concerts done, Harry’s equally pissed off and equally ready to go, hot and bursting in his loose skinnies.

It’s frustrating, but after being with Louis for so long, you get used to it.

He takes a bow with the boys after the last song and sends a wave out to the audience, flashing a cheeky dimple-popping smile before snaking a normal, _bromantic_ arm around Louis’ waist and steering him off stage, long fingers sliding underneath the hem of the blazer to press into Louis’ soft, hot skin. Louis lets out a huff before tossing his own arm around Harry’s neck, moving his feet faster to keep with Harry’s steps.

“Y’know,” he says lightly, hands settling on the curve of Harry’s shoulder, “practically everyone thinks we’re going to have a backstage fuck right now.”

“Because we are,” Harry grits out immediately, to which Louis’ feet stumble a bit and he has to grip him tighter, _drag_ him back into a fast walk, “we’re going to have you right here, pet.”

“Fuck,” Louis says, and it comes out weak and unprepared, “ _fuck_ , Haz.”

“Right,” Harry mutters, nodding as he drags Louis down an empty, dimmer hallway that cuts off the rest of backstage, “fuck.”

The hallway cuts off into another smaller, darker one, and Harry hadn’t been expecting that, really, but it’s good. He drags Louis down it, and Louis goes with it, probably grinning like a brat who’s just got what he wanted. Like always. (‘Harry, you’re too whipped for Louis-‘ ‘No, please no, I’m not-‘ ‘You do whatever the crazy kid asks you to do!’) (And it’s true.)

Louis makes a grunting noise when Harry pulls him up in front of him from where he’d been behind, eye shining gleefully even in the semi-darkness. Harry knows he’s whipped.

He turns Louis around, though, ignores it, and pushes him down face-first onto a wooden crate, one of probably a hundred lining the corridor. Louis makes a displeased noise and wriggles a bit, sighing and coming to a still when Harry presses a large, firm hand to the center of his back. He teeters a second on his toes before letting his feet fall flat to the floor, arms moving above his head and splaying themselves out childishly. Harry is so fond of this shit.

His eyes flicker down to his hand after Louis stops wriggling around like an annoyed child, and his breath catches in his throat almost as he sees how his fingers splay across Louis’ back, palm covering so much of it, and the fucking _blazer_ \- it’s pressing down, and it’s all too much. The reminder of how he has so much physical power over Louis drifts into his mind, and he bites his lip, closing his eyes and breathing in. Louis kicks his ankle, then.

“Thought we were gonna have me now, doll?” he asks, aiming for bored and unbothered but the slight waver of his voice gives it away; that he’s anticipating this as much as Harry. It makes Harry feel wild and powerful. He hardly ever feels like that, really.

“I changed my mind,” he says, wincing at how his voice breaks a bit, “I’m gonna have you, you’ll just be a good, quiet boy.”

Louis twists underneath his grip, like he doesn’t agree and wants to get away so he can negotiate unfairly but Harry tuts and reaches out for his arms, wedging a knee in between Louis’ thighs to keep him pinned to the crate while his hands grip his wrists, bringing them down to the small of his back. When he holds them there for ten seconds, watching amused as Louis writhes and tries to escape, the older boy groans.

“Hate you- hate you so much, love-“ he mumbles, as if it makes any logical sense, and pushes back onto the Harry’s front. The younger boy gasps and bucks his hips forward, gritting his teeth as soon as he does because _fuck_ , he’s not- he’s not going _down_ like that. It fuels his anger, horniness and regret when he sees Louis grin triumphantly from his side profile.

“C’mon, mate,” Louis says, wiggling his hips, “gimme cock.”

Harry can’t hold in that surprised, barking laugh that tumbles out his mouth at that, and he reaches down with his free hand to tug the waistband of Louis’ chinos, sliding them down with his briefs but doing so achingly slow, fingertips brushing Louis’ overheated skin. “God, you’re _shamless_.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Louis sighs, and Harry furrows his brows at that, but then sees the base of an arse plug nestled between his bum cheeks and oh, yeah, he is- is like Harry wouldn’t believe.

“I captured a stellar boy,” Harry marvels, leaves Louis’ pants around his mid-thigh to brush his fingertips over the flat base, see Louis wriggle pleasedly, grin a bit. “Got y’self all nice for me, huh.”

“Yeah-“ Louis breathes, and his little fingers curl and uncurl as he continues, “you wouldn’t even know how long it took me to convince Caroline to let me have your blazer, ‘cause I knew you would get a stage-boner. Needed you to be as ready as me, really.”

“I always am, even _more_ than you,” Harry answers  indignantly, but a smile quirks up the corner of his lips just so, like he can’t control himself when it comes to Louis, and he _cannot_ \- “but this is - this is nice.”

Louis’ head drops down onto the crate so Harry can see his profile. “Well, no need to get sappy on me when I’m fucking stuffed with something not you, darling.”

“Shameless _and_ crude,” Harry mutters, but does what Louis wants anyways -fuck- and grips the base tightly, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth like a sort of concentration ritual, easing it out of Louis’ strung-tight body, and Louis makes a little noise as he gets it out all the way, a squelching noise accompanying it.

Harry stands there almost awkwardly with it presented in one hand as he lets his gaze roam over Louis’ arse, cheeks slick with lube and hairless thighs a light, sweaty pink from both the concert and how his chinos are restraining them and with how Louis is bent over so neatly, he can see his shiny pink hole and- fuck, _fuck_.

“Should have you now,” he whispers lightheadedly, quiet and basically for himself. Louis snorts, and he lightly smacks him on the bum before bending his body to the side very strangely to place the plug somewhere - sanitary, maybe. Hopefully.

He reaches the now-empty hand up and in front of Louis’ mouth, pressing the flat of two of them to Louis’ bottom lip and Louis sucks them in quickly, more eagerly than he usually does, and while he gets them wet Harry reaches into the pocket of Zayn’s letter jacket, pulling out the packet of lube he stuffed in there before getting onstage. Something Zayn won’t ever know is something that won’t ever hurt him.

“I’ve not got a foil,” he says suddenly, digging his hand into the pocket and furrowing his eyebrows. Louis’ tongue stops laving thick licks of saliva over his fingers, and Harry’s heart falls. Fuck.

“S’alright,” Louis says a moment later, around the digits in his mouth, and it comes out in a sticky slur, “c’n just knock me up now-“

Harry pinches Louis’ left arse cheek with a scowl, and Louis yelps, and even when he’s yelping he’s still laughing at Harry. “Lou, please. I’ve not got enough – enough stamina for the thought right now-“ And yeah, it’s not possible, but it doesn’t mean Harry can’t think about the thought. He thinks. Pretty sure.

“Whaer,” Louis slurs, “g’t on wid is-“

Harry chuckles helplessly before pulling them out, bringing them back towards him and pressing them both to Louis’ clenching hole. They push through neatly, no resistance left so they push into the slick heat. Louis giggles like it tickles before Harry quickly crooks them and then he just moans quietly, the small sound filtering through the hall.

“Gosh,” Harry mutters, shuffling so his own legs are spread apart as a good stance. He tightens his hold on Louis’ wrists as he slowly fucks his fingers into Louis, “so ready.”

Louis’ head slams on the crate, and before Harry can say anything he agrees. “As I said, always.”

Harry just hums, pushing them back in and keeping them there for a moment, crooking them and wriggling them around to widen him just that much further. Louis makes an intangible noise, and Harry flattens his palm against his arse, which has him pushing back into the feeling, rocking onto his fingers.

“Don’t think you- understand,” he pants into the wood, fingers twitching in Harry’s grip, “’m already good-“

“That,” Harry interrupts, “y’aren’t.” He crooks his fingers again before spreading the two out and Louis makes a desperate whining noise

“C’ _mon,_ or I’ll fuck meself,” Louis hisses, hips moving back to fuck himself on Harry’s stilled fingers then going forward to hump the cottony side of the crate.

Harry chuckles again, twists his hand so he can thumb at Louis’ hole, “and how would that happen?”

“You know me,” Louis says, voice suddenly airy, “know how I could come up with something.”

“Like a duplicate of yourself to fuck?”

“Exactly.” Louis grins. “You do know me.”

The statement makes Harry’s hear swell, ‘cause it’s so impossible to know Louis; to figure him out and now he’s just carelessly admitting Harry’s done it; solved the puzzle he is and it’s fantastic. He pulls his fingers out, wiping them on his jeans and Louis makes a pleased noise.

He shakes his head to himself, smile playing up at the corner of his lips, and he’s gone for this boy.

He rips open the packet of lube with his teeth and one hand, eyes trained on how the blazer rucks up Louis’ body in an artful way. When he’s got no choice but to let go of Louis so he can slick himself up, he does and Louis sighs, moving his hands from his back and shaking them out.

“Ogre,” he mutters, and Harry ignores it, undoing his fly to grip his cock, hissing at the contact. He tugs a dry hand over it once before wetting his palm and smoothing over it again; shivering at the coolness of the liquid-y gel matter.

He thumbs at his head once before fitting the head of his cock against Louis’ hole and bending himself over the elder, easily snatching his useless, wimpy hands and pressing them to the small of his back.

“Alright,” he says, grinning, and Louis stiffens underneath him, “beg.”

Louis looks like he’s about to scream profanities at Harry but then he shifts his back a bit, and Harry’s length drags between his arse cheeks, and he just ends up squeaking.

“Well,” Harry huffs, and thrusts his hips up, cock dragging against Louis’ abused-looking hole, wanting so badly to wreck it just that bit more, “if you won’t ask, I’ll just use you to get myself off.”

Louis shakes his head against the crate and Harry’s pleased until Louis mumbles “why do I have- have to beg?”

Harry’s head drops and he barks out a laugh in disbelief. “I- you _think-_ “ and his grip on Louis’ wrists tighten as he begins humping almost dumbly against Louis’ bum, his head catching on Louis’ rim each twist up, “you can just- just tease like that-“ and tugs Louis’ torso down the crate with one hand, Louis crying out until his cock is nestled between his cheeks, “and I’ll just give you what you want?”

“That’s the idea-“ Louis pants, rolling his hips to try and get something inside himself, coming up fruitless. “Please, please, _please_ fuck me-“

Harry grips his hip, then, and pushes up once more, his head pressing blunt against Louis’ rim. It’s his favourite part; watching Louis’ body stretch to accommodate him, and he lets his chin drop to his chest now, eyes glazed as his cock sinks inside Louis, bottoming out in one stroke.

“Fuck.” Louis says it like a short statement, wriggling around to try and accommodate. His fingers scrabble uselessly, and then his head is thumping back on the crate. “G’on, love.”

Harry straightens his back, damp bangs falling down in his face as he pulls out before thrusting back in again, and he knows how to get a fast pace mostly. He presses the fingers of his free hand into the cotton top of the crate as leverage as he begins fucking Louis steadily.

“Jesus-“ Louis grits, cutting off with a choppy moan. He clenches around Harry, and Harry knows he’s not going to hold out too long what with how he was ready to go for nearly the whole day. His eyes lid over, and his lips part, hips slowing in their frantic pace.

“You can’t just- can’t just tease me,” he says lightly, letting go of Louis’ hands to grip the older boy’s waist and push him back onto his cock, “especially when you’re wearing something like- like that.”

He stops speaking, voice rough and hardly understandable at this point, keeps his hips going in the same pace as he reaches one hand down and traces over Louis’ spread rim, watching his cock slip in and out of it. Louis whines, his back flexing under the blazer and jerks into the touch.

“You can’t-“ Harry says again, “you can’t just _do_ that- that blazer has my _name_ on it-“

Louis lets out a breathless, enthralled giggle, and what with how he’s been slamming his face down everywhere his hair is now sticking up in awkward tufts. “Why?” He tgs a hand away from Harry when the younger boy's grip loosens, spitting on his palm before snaking his hand underneath himself.

Harry thrusts inside once more, hips becoming messy in their stutter as he groans out “you want- you want to be mine - m‘name on you, like Louis Styles-“

It doesn’t make an inch of sense but Louis gasps wetly, back arching as his cock pulses. He yelps out an _‘in your dreams’_ and Harry doesn’t even wait until he’s stopped to grab his hips and continue fucking him manically, and Louis makes a hurt noise and curls his torso up like he’s trying to get away from the feeling, prick still pressed against his quaking tummy and the crate.

Harry takes a few more seconds until he’s bowing his head, eyes dropping closed in fatigue and coming inside of Louis, hunching down over him heavily.

He doesn’t get any time to even finish off until Louis’ shuffling uncomfortably underneath him, making little noises and reaching behind himself to hit Harry’s bicep.

“Out, out-“ and Harry’s about to protest until he sees Louis’ hand switch over to the other side and wave at the plug. He blinks lazily, lips forming an ‘o.’

“I could clean you up, y’know,” he mumbles, pulling out despite himself, and Louis shrugs, the fabric of the blazer catching onto the wood that still shows of the crate.

“I know you could, but.” He doesn’t continue, like he just expects Harry to get it and he does, not even pulling his pants back up, just dropping to his knees behind Louis, flaccid cock hanging out, pressing his lips to the round of Louis’ right cleft.

He edges it back into Louis, eyes lidded as he sucks the come leaking down his thighs slowly, Louis making a grunting noise when it finally sinks back in. He wiggles for the umpteenth time that day before looking over his shoulder at Harry.

“Feels a bit weird.”

As soon as he’s got his pants back up, Harry slaps his bum lightly. “No shit.”

“You can clean me up when we get home,” Louis mutters, like it’s to himself, turning around to slap Harry’s cheek and then fix his sweaty fringe. Harry grins.

“Sure.”

As they walk down the corridor, reeking of sex, Harry reminds himself that he does have self-control.

Definitely.


End file.
